


Writ In My Sins

by desreelee123



Category: Shame (2011)
Genre: Backstory, Broken Promises, Dark, Drug Use, F/M, Flashbacks, Heartbreak, Heavy Angst, Prequel, Promiscuity, Sex Addiction, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-14
Updated: 2013-08-14
Packaged: 2017-12-23 11:27:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/925848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/desreelee123/pseuds/desreelee123
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is the prequel I thought up while watching Shame. Please be nice.<br/>Snapshots of Brandon and Sissy's life in order.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Writ In My Sins

I

Brandon was fourteen when his sister walked in on him in the shower. Naked. Expectedly, she had retreated and closed the door silently, muttering something akin to an apology under her breath. It was extremely embarrassing for him and they had not spoken about it for a span of time.

II

It was May.

Warm air, hot shining sun, and beaches were the norm. The sixteen-year old Brandon however, chose instead to spend his time inside his room, locked away from the summer hullabaloo. He had never liked crowds and beaches anyway. And he also wasn't one for the spotlight.

Right now, he was firmly holding his cock in one hand and stroking it in a rhythmical motion. He imagined a pretty girl from his school sucking on it.

His breaths became labored and exerted as he neared his climax.

"Brandon?" he heard a feminine voice utter unsurely.

"Shit!" he exclaimed. The adolescent grabbed his pants off the floor and hurriedly put it on. "What the hell Sissy!"

"I'm sorry," the petite girl that was his sister said in a meek tone.

"Knock next time," he declared. The girl crouched away and averted her eyes from him. He then felt regret over his snappy reaction.

"I'm sorry, I just, I was-

Slam.

He let out a sigh. He was hard again. This time, from his own sister.

II

Brandon was nine when his father first beat him. His dad had always been a mean drunk ever since their mother died. He would come home late from the local pub and assault anyone he could see.

Tonight, it just happened to be Brandon.

He was on the couch in the living room, playing with his cars. It was way past his bedtime.

All the boy felt was a hardness at the side of his cheek and his cars toppling down to the rug along with him.

"What did I tell you?" his father asked in an angry tone. Another kick came. It dislocated his shoulder. He let out a loud wail.

"I'm sorry," the little boy managed through tears, clutching his arm. A slap.

"Men don't cry boy," he smelled of alcohol. Another slap. "And I think your bedtime was due an hour ago?"

"I'm sorry," little Brandon's voice was barely above a whisper.

On the second floor of the house, a frightened little black-haired girl looked on.

III

The beatings became more frequent by the time Brandon and Sissy Sullivan were in their teens. This time, their father would come to either of their rooms at night and vent out his frustrations by using his fists. Sissy would usually be his more favored victim because of her small frame.

The monster that was their father would now drink whilst still inside the house, all day, all night. He would verbally or physically abuse anyone who would dare cross paths with him.

He had just been fired from his construction job. His superiors deemed him as someone who didn't perform well while on the job.

Considering the frequency of his drinking habits, it didn't come as a surprise to the two siblings. But it did come as a warning.

That meant he would be around them more.

The same night their father was fired, he had come to his sister's room and beat her furiously. By the time he was done with her, she had angry purple bruises all over her face and neck. Brandon had come to her room a while later and had applied some ointment to the bruises. There was a silent agreement between the two that they would nurse each other after a beating.

"How would you feel if I just stabbed him?" he asked while tending to her bruises.

"No Brandon, it won't do you any good," she had replied, her voice straining.

"One day Sissy, one day he won't be able to harm you ever again," he promised.

IV

Sissy was thirteen when Brandon first walked in on her in the shower. This was a year after she had walked in on him.

Brandon was in a trance as he took in her silhouette. Small but firm breasts, creamy thighs, flat stomach, it was like a dream to him. He didn't notice her flick her head to him.

"Brandon?"

He slammed the door immediately.

But he couldn't ignore the stir that she had caused inside his pants.

Damn her.

After a few minutes of contemplation, he immediately went to his room to take care of the business inside his pants.

As he stroked his erect cock furiously, he desperately thought about his sister encased in his arms, sweaty and hot, and him thrusting furiously inside her.

As he descended from the throes of his climax, a desperate remorse settled in his gut.

She was his sister for god's sake! Why-how could he think of her like that?

V

Sissy was fifteen on this particular night when she heard their father slam her brother's door. She curled up on her bed and looked at the medical kit on her nightstand.

"Wait for twenty minutes before you go inside my room."

Every night it was like this: Brandon or her.

She couldn't help as a tear escaped her eye. Was this to be their lives? She knew for a fact that they didn't deserve this, that this wasn't how fathers treated their kids.

She got off her bed, medical kit in hand, after she counted the aforementioned minutes inside her head. She quietly exited her bedroom and headed to Brandon's.

He sat on the edge of his bed, face bloodied and bruised. He looked up at the door and when he saw that it was her, his face instantly brightened.

"Sissy," he choked out. She sat next to him and tended to his bruises.

"Do we deserve this?" she asked.

He reached out and stroked her cropped brunette hair.

"No," he took a deep breath. "I promise you that as soon as I finish college, I will get a job and find a place for us both to stay."

She smiled. It was the most beautiful thing Brandon has seen.

"Thank you."

VI

A week before he left for college, his sister had come to his room and curled up next to him.

"Brandon, are you going to leave me?" she had asked.

He roused from his peaceful slumber and looked at his sister's face. The moonlight reflected beautifully on her features, making her look like an angel. He could still make out the faint bruises on her face from her last beating.

He stroke her hair. He knew himself that he was a coward. He was a coward for failing to protect his sister from their father's wrath. He was a coward for letting an angel like her fall to his hands.

And he was about to do those things again.

"No," he lied. He said it to calm her.

She leaned in to kiss him. Sissy tasted off something sweet and something unique. For a moment, Brandon leaned in to the kiss, eager for more but then reality set in and he pulled away, breathless.

"Sissy," he started but was cut off by her lips covering his again.

This was certainly not normal.

She started pulling off his shirt and stroking the chest underneath. He felt his hand reaching for her rear and squeezing it.

"Sissy," he moaned when he felt her sucking on the part of his neck that was most sensitive. When his shirt was off, she began kissing the scars and bruises on his body.

Even though Sissy was their father's preferred victim, during the times he chose Brandon, he was usually rougher with him. He would usually bind him to the bed and use a knife to cut his chest open. Sissy would cover her ears and shield herself from her brother's screams most of the time.

Brandon felt his cock stirring.

"Sissy," he moaned again as she took off his boxers and stroked his boner. She then leaned down to kiss him again. His hands went up underneath her shirt and he pinched her nipples. She let out a gasp into his mouth. He then freed his other hand and went into her pussy. He played with her clit as her hand played with his cock. He dipped a finger into her and found out that she was wet, very wet.

"Please Brandon," she begged. One second and he thrust toward her. They switched positions so that she was under him. A look of pain crossed her features.

"Is this hurting you?" he asked worriedly as he slowly glided in and out of her.

She shook her head and bore with it. He exhaled. He had finally realized his most hidden fantasies. The very fantasies that he had ignored for years.

Finally, he began to find his rhythm and his thrusts started increasing in speed. It was still slow enough for his sister to accommodate but fast enough that it ignited a certain amount of pleasure inside him. He kissed her again this time, tasting her again. He knew that he would never forget the taste of her lips.

It was like eating the finest fruit in the world.

His climax came slow and savory. He drew out of her when he felt the unmistakable tightening in his loins. She had came afterwards.

After they came down from their respective climaxes, Brandon immediately stepped off the bed and went to the bathroom. He slammed the door behind him as a deep sense of remorse flooded his insides. She was his sister.

He splashed his face with cold water from the tap and lingered there for a while. He stared at himself in the mirror.

This was definitely not right.

VII

Brandon was on his third year of college when he received news that his sister had ran away from home and that their father died of alcohol poisoning. He instantly took a trip back to where he lived and asked the neighbors where she was. They all said the same thing. They didn't know where she was.

He had come back to his college after two days of fruitless searching.

For a week, he had moped around campus. One day, a blockmate of his approached him and referred him to a man who hung around in the parking lot of the campus during nighttime. He was reluctant at first and was even more unwilling when he saw what the man was peddling.

But one whiff and he felt, for the first time in years, good.

Around the back where the man peddled his goods, there were a group of students composed of both freshmen and seniors that hung around there every night. Instantly, when they saw him, they had eagerly invited him to their group.

The girls of the group stuck around him whenever he was there. He knew that it was attributed to his good looks. Yes, Brandon Sullivan knew he was attractive. He had been made aware of it several times but he had never really actually used his attractiveness to hook in girls before.

The first girl of the group that had approached him had blonde hair and wild, euphoric brown eyes. He didn't even remember her name. He only remembered the jeers and claps of the other men in the group as the girl squatted down and took his cock in her mouth and sucked.

Gods, he was having the time of his life.

Brandon remembered coming back the night after.

And the night after that.

And the night after that.

VIII

It was on the last semester of his last year in college when Brandon heard from his sister again. He was twenty-two and she was twenty-years old.

He heard a knock on his door and half-expected it to be the girl he had bedded last night. What was her name-Beth, Annabeth? He couldn't remember anymore.

Instead, when he opened the door, he saw the face of his sister. She looked different. Instead of brunette locks, she sported bleached-blond strands of hair. Her face was different too. She had aged but not in a bad way. She looked more mature in a sense.

Was it him or did she have make-up on?

Aside from that, her way of clothing herself also changed. She now had a skimpy cocktail dress on and red scarf. A pair of sunglasses was on top of her head and she carried a red handbag.

"Sissy?" he asked, bewildered.

"Brandon!" she exclaimed in delight as she launched herself to him.

For a moment, he felt complete again.

But the agony and emptiness he felt while she was gone came back. He couldn't forget the anger.

He shoved her away from him and looked at her confused face.

"Why are you here?" he asked in a steely voice.

"I-I wanted to visit you," she said nervously.

"After a fucking year of me not knowing where you were, you decide that you wanted to visit me, huh?"

"Brandon, I-

"Why didn't you fucking call me?" he asked angrily, slamming her to the wall. "Why didn't you just freaking pick up the phone and dial my number, huh?"

"You don't know what it was like when you went away. The night after you went, I was so scared. The beatings became worse and instead of bruises, I would have scars and cuts like you!" she exclaimed. "You see this?"

She had raised up her shirt to reveal a jagged scar across her rib.

"He did this to me," she then turned around to reveal more angry scars on her back. "And those too Brandon."

By the time she turned around to face him one more time, he had tears in his eyes.

"Why didn't you just call me?" he asked.

"Our phones got cancelled because he wasn't paying the bills," she said tiredly. "I had to work jobs just to keep the house going and put myself through school."

At that, Brandon felt a pang of remorse.

"I'm sorry," his voice was barely above a whisper. The next moment, he felt her arms encircle him.

"I know."

IX

It was the first night he never went to that back alley since the day he came back from his hometown in search of his lost, now found, sister.

They had slept together that night. There's nothing much to it. In the end, surprisingly, he didn't feel any remorse whatsoever that he felt the first time. Maybe because they weren't under their father's roof anymore.

It was sweet and deliberate. And for the first time in a long time (Or maybe a year.), Brandon felt good about sex.

She had cuddled up next to him that night.

When he woke up, she was gone.

That night, he recalled dragging some sexy brunette freshmen into a deserted classroom and fucking her hard.

X

Brandon didn't hear from her until he was twenty-five and had his own apartment in New York and was working as an ad executive in an advertising company. She was singing in an upscale bar in Manhattan that he and Dave, his sleazy but fun boss that always gave him a raise, frequented to.

The moment he saw a glimpse of her in the bar's window, he immediately tugged at his boss-Dave, and dragged him to another bar across the street.

He thought he saw Sissy looking his way.

Or maybe he was just imagining it.

After three years of not hearing from her, he wouldn't dare let her enter his life again. Not after her last visit.

That night, he had picked up a faceless redhead in a cocktail dress and fucked her in the bar's bathroom. It was wild and quick. But for some reason, during the encounter, he had decided to taste the woman's lips. She tasted of alcohol and cherry lipstick.

For some reason, it left an empty feeling of disappointment in the pit of his stomach. He couldn't exactly pinpoint why he had this feeling. (Secretly, he knew exactly why.)

He dreamt of Sissy's smile and hair that night.

Disclaimer: I don't own Shame or anything associated with it.


End file.
